“What are you saying?” I ask.
“Did the mafia shoot you?” Sadie asks. Her eyes are filled with concern.
It would be easy to lie to her and blame it on Antonio and his men. Perhaps she’d listen to me, leave that stupid bar, and come work for us.
I grimace at the idea of her working at Club Sage, even as a bartender. I don’t want Luka or Mikhail getting any ideas to put her on stage. I’d kill any man who looked at her like I do.
Shit.
What the hell has gotten into me?
Sweat licks my forehead, and I shuffle my feet, pulling Sadie away from the sidewalk and against the brick building wall.
Her hand rests on my hip as I pull her into the shade. Her touch is possessive.
Is it on purpose?
I can’t fight the urge to kiss her any longer. I shove her up against the brick building, and my lips crash on her. I want to fuck her for the world to see.
But I settle for tasting her lips. My fingers caress her hair, deepening the kiss.
She moans, the sounds doing wild things to me, making me want to take her outside and show everyone she’s mine.
Eventually, I break the kiss, resting my forehead against hers.
“I don’t remember who shot me,” I say. It’s not a lie, but I remember who was in the vehicle that day: Luka, Anton, and Savannah. One of them has to be responsible.
It takes her a moment to regain her composure. She looks at me curiously, like she can’t remember the question.
I like that I’ve gotten inside her head.
Good. I like having that power over her—the ability to make her speechless.
She licks her lips where my tongue was moments earlier. Sadie exhales a nervous breath, staring up at me. “Please don’t lie to me, Dmitri. Are you with the Italian Mafia?”
I want to laugh at her question. The absurdity of it is mind-boggling. Does she not realize that the Italians and Russians have two distinct organizations in the city?
She shouldn’t know.
She can remain innocent of the darkness that surrounds us. The girl has no idea the depth of what she’s stepped into.
Sadie is lucky that she isn’t drowning.
“I’m Russian,” I say. That’s all she gets.
I won’t lie to her. But telling her without her outright asking is absurd. She doesn’t need to know I’m bratva. It certainly won’t save her.
If she slips, it could get us both killed.
I’m not afraid of death, but I don’t want to see Sadie or her daughter get hurt. They deserve better.
Her eyes narrow like she’s trying to make sense of what I’ve told her. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and steer her away from the brick building and keep her close to me. “Can we move on from our fight?” I ask.
I want her to come to Luka’s wedding and be my date. I’d like her to attend the rehearsal dinner, and even though we’re not a real couple, I enjoy her company and companionship.
“I think we did,” Sadie says, glancing at me as we walk alongside one another. “As long as you can accept where I work.”
I’ve got eyes on her all the time.